


Duty Bound

by littleblue_eyedbird



Category: Abelavellan - Fandom, Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Abelas - Freeform, Abelavellan, Cowboys, Desire, Dragon Age - Freeform, Dragon Age Inquisition, Duty, F/M, Smut, Versus, Wild West, Wild West AU, a little bit of angst, bandits, flirty banter, heavy smut, lone ranger - Freeform, star crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-19 00:43:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4726397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblue_eyedbird/pseuds/littleblue_eyedbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abelavellan Wild West AU where Fena’dea Lavellan owns a Saloon/Brothel, Tarasyl'an Te'las, by day and is an infamous bandit by night. But her illicit activities have suddenly been brought to light and she now must face down the lone ranger sworn to bring her to justice. (*NSFW*)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Duty Bound

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Resoan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Resoan/gifts).



> written for resoan with her Lavellan oc, Fena'dea! As part of the DA Ficswap on tumblr!

The evening sunset was casting a warm glow through the open windows of _Tarasyl'an Te'las,_ as Fena’dea gazed out at the horizon line marked by the mountain range that loomed far in the distance, separated by a wide expanse of barren desert sand. The loud clinking of glass returned her focus to the conversation she had been having with Dorian.  He continued to talk, not taking notice that Fena’dea had tuned out a part of their discussion about how the local patrons lacked the passion for “intellectual pursuits” as he handed her a clean tankard to dry.

Fena’dea reached out to take the glass Dorian had extended to her, using the rag in a free hand to swipe off the last drops of water. She began shelving the clean glasses he had washed, stocking her supplies to prepare for their evening rush.  Fena’dea snapped her head up at the sound of the saloon doors swinging open; it was too early for patrons quite yet.

Fena’dea froze.

She locked eyes with the uniformed elven man who had briskly made his way through the entry way. A strange sensation began to unfurl in her chest as recognition sunk in.

_Her Ranger had returned._

Rangers were physical extensions law in these parts, acting on behalf the upper class to track down and apprehend outlaws and thieves that posed threats to businesses and higher standing members of society. The sight of one in any small town was never a good sign, especially in an establishment like Fena’dea’s, whose regulars…were not the most law abiding citizens to put it nicely. This ranger in particular though was no stranger to Fena’dea. He had been a patron just a few months prior.

She had been nervous about his presence when he had taken a seat in a dark corner of her lounge; a ranger had the authority to apprehend any outlaw on the spot. And it was by some stroke of fate that he managed to stumble into the only Saloon for miles that was run by one, and a damn infamous one at that.

But this ranger had appeared so weary and forlorn, beaten down and sitting alone in the corner nursing his glass of whiskey, she couldn’t help but feel drawn over drawn over to him. Soon she was engaged in some lighthearted chatter and ended up sliding into the seat next to him. She knew it was a risky endeavor, but she had to know why he was here. And since when had she ever backed down from a challenge?

She remembered how she had coaxed him out of his oh-so-reserved shell with some light hearted banter and the help of alcohol, getting him to tell his stories of apprehending a few more famous outlaws than she, taking notes on how he operated. Soon the topic shifted to more personal territories. She got swept up in the sound of his voice, his smoldering amber eyes, and resolute stature. She found herself opening up to him, spilling some of her stories, as he listened attentively.

Fena’dea couldn’t fight the temptation of his allure or the impulse to act on it any longer, and found out soon enough that neither could he. One thing led to another and suddenly they couldn’t keep themselves off each other. His fingers coiled into her hair, while her lips slated over his and again and again as he pressed her against the wall at the landing at the top of the stairs.

She awoke to find him gone in the morning, his payment for the room and board left on the night stand served as the only evidence that he had even stayed.

She rationalized it was for the best. She chastised herself for wishing she had more time to get to know him, because every moment she spent with him was about as dangerous as dancing with the Dread Wolf.

But that didn’t stop Fena’dea’s memory from replaying the night spent together in her mind before she could stop it. Rough hands exploring her soft skin, fingers digging into the grooves of her hips, his breath dancing on her neck, the heat of their bodies pressed together, moving as one…

“Excuse me sir, we’re closed for about another hour, would you kindly—“

Dorian started to say but was silenced by Fena’dea’s hand on his shoulder. She shook her head to clear the memory out and curtail the blush cresting over her cheeks at the sudden flashback. Dorian took it as a silencing gesture and sent her a puzzled look.

“One moment.” Fena’dea called out before pulling Dorian aside.

“I’ll handle the ranger. Would you mind double checking our stock for tonight in the cellar?” She smiled sweetly, sending him an entirely different message with her eyes.

Dorian nodded, amusement dancing on his face as he  glanced once more at the stranger, still hovering several feet back from the bar. Dorian winked at her and she playfully shoved him towards the door in the back.

The lone ranger began his slow, purposeful stride towards her as he reached into his vest to procure a legal document. Fena’dea could see with ease the giant, gaudy Pantheon seal embellished on the outside of the envelope.

Her heart skipped a beat. Her nerves, already shaken up from his unexpected return, came even more alive with energy. His eyes were cold and sharp, not warm golden-yellow she had found herself fantasizing about. She could see in the way he was presenting himself that his intentions were not friendly. She realized with a pang of panic that this was not a social call. Though she was still going to play it off as one nonetheless, she had a reputation as a welcoming hostess to uphold and turned on her charm.

“Pleasure seeing you back again so soon Abelas, come back for more? Or did you actually miss me?” She offered a flirty smile, sweeping back dark locks of hair off her face. She poised herself over the bar between two candles in alluring manner, allowing the firelight to illuminate the varying hues of purple in her wide eyes.

Something flashed across the man’s striking features, longing perhaps, but the expression faded as quickly as it had appeared. His resolve returned in full force.

“The unfortunate pleasure is mine, Fena’dea. Or perhaps I should start calling you by your proper alias, _Nightshade_.”

Abelas tossed the envelope to her and it landed with a thick slap onto the bar’s polished surface.  The ranger’s gaze was scrutinizing her every move as she eyed the letter nonchalantly. She lazily dragged her fingers across the seal before snatching it up, ignoring the use of her pseud.  If this letter contained what she thought was in it, she was about to be in some serious trouble.

“Now, now, Ranger. I am nothing but humble woman, runnin’ a business and offering services to those… in need.” She paused, running her fingers across the top of the envelope to split it open and retract the letter inside. “Such heavy accusations I assure you are--.” Fena’dea trailed off as she scanned its contents. Her heart began to pound in her ears.

It was, indeed what she had feared. A warrant for her arrest; citing numerous crimes she committed under her alias of Nightshade. The names of the noble families whose reputations she had undermined, the oil and mining companies she had stolen from, high class caravans she had held up and robbed were neatly ordered on that piece of parchment in bold black ink. Despite the onset of sudden shock at being discovered, a small sense of pride burned in her heart. Seeing all of her transgressions laid out before her in elegant script made them feel more akin to a list of accomplishments, and this wasn’t even the complete list!

Every boon she had acquired via the offenses on that paper had brought food to another starving mouth, clothes to those bare-boned, and much needed resources for those suffering. Her dirty work provided the less fortunate with ways to survive. It’s not as if those biggity rich folk would even feel the loss of the sovereigns and goods she stole, though her ranger knew none of this. These people relied on her, and she sure as hell wasn’t about to go down without a fight.

“I must say I’m flattered. You wrote this up just for me? Most lovers just bring me flowers or leave a generous tip. You must _really_ like me.” She bantered, folding the piece of paper up into smaller and smaller squares.

He exhaled sharply. “You are mistaken.”

 It was his turn to try to shake the memories of that night he spent with her; how easily he could recall of the taste of her lips, the caress of her lingering touch, gentle and commanding, guiding him to give himself over to the rhythm of her hips.

“You do not know me well enough to decide what I do and do not like.” He lied, as he tried to deny the pleasant sensation burning through him at the sight of her smile.

“Oh really, I can think of a few things you do like, and maybe a few ways we can think of more.” She murmured coyly, fanning herself with the now folded paper, hoping to draw his attention away from where her other hand went. Her free hand readjusted the ruffles in her dress, her fingers ghosting over one of the hidden blades she had strapped to her thigh.

Ignoring her comment entirely he stated, “By the order of Pantheon and under the Justice of Mythal”, he withdrew his ranger’s dagger from his belt, “You are here by sentenced to detainment and—what are –how _dare_ you!”

He lunged forward in an attempt to swipe the folded up letter Fena’dea had held over the candle on her right. But he was too late. It caught flame and she deftly moved out of the way, holding the burning parchment like just out of his reach like a prize.

“Oops.” She said, feigning innocence before tossing it in the sink behind her. “No more evidence.  Now what will you hold against me?” She added with a wink.

Anger flared in his eyes and he launched himself at her over the bar.

Her reflexes kicked in immediately; effectively diving out from behind the bar and of his way. Nimbly, she unsheathed the daggers hidden beneath her clothes. Abelas had done the same. Fighting in a corset was the _last_ on her list of things to do this evening, but she didn’t have much choice at this point. Their dance was about to begin.

Abelas leapt in close range, striking out using the pommel of his dagger in an attempt to knock her off balance. But Fena’dea was too cunning for that. She swiftly parried his strike with two of her own, undermining his move and causing him to lean back to avoid getting smacked in the face.

Fena’dea shot him coquettish smile, all teeth, as she lashed out again making him agilely dodge her blows by taking several side steps back. He recovered quickly, rushing forward forcing her to spin out of the way and raise a dagger to block his attack. She didn’t need to actually make contact, she just needed to knock him back far enough to the side to clear path forward so she could make a break for it out the front doors.

If she weren’t in the blasted breathing restrictive fashion statement, she would have been out the door and halfway out of town by now. She had to make every attack count; each slash she made in succession flowed gracefully, but to her growing frustration Abelas kept up with her pace with ease. Their dance was in a stalemate. He must have figured out her intentions because he made sure to keep himself between her and the exit. She had to think fast, or otherwise he’d trap her against her own bar.

She attempted to fake him out, making to dive left while spinning at the last second to bolt off to the right. It would have worked too if he hadn’t kicked a stool in her direction to trip her up. The wooden seat collided with her knees, causing her to stumble for a split second before jumping over it as it fell to the floor. That second of hesitation was Abelas needed to close the distance between them.

A firm hand caught Fena’dea’s elbow, interrupting her momentum. She felt the disorienting sensation of being jerked in the opposite direction, before she was slammed into the side of the room. The force of making contact with a solid wall knocked her blades clean out of hands.

Abelas took no time kicking them out of reach. He drew his blade just under her chin, causing her to tilt her head up and stare at him.

Her eyes were just as he remembered, vibrant and defiant, with just a hint of mischief. He slowly felt himself being hypnotized in their amethyst depths, his resolve began faltering faster than he could hope to recover. Her breath hitched as readjusted the grip on the dagger at her throat. That small sound sent him reeling through flashbacks of the various other noises he recalled her making the last time they were in this close proximity of each other.

“ _Abelas_...”

All it took was the sound of his name to undo the last semblance of self-control he so desperately was holding onto.

 _I shouldn’t be doing this_.

His dagger clattered to the floor and he eliminated the remaining space between them.  

_She’s bandit, a criminal._

He leaned in to graze his lips over hers, cupping her face with one of his hands.

_This goes against everything I’ve sworn to uphold._

His thumb traced the line of her jaw, tilting her head up ever so slightly. She drew her arms around his neck, letting her fingers untie the knot that held his hair back, giving her leverage to pull him further into her kiss.

 _Creators forgive me_.

He gave in. His purpose forgotten the moment he sighed into her mouth. It was like coming home, or so he liked to delude himself. “Home” was a foreign concept to him but her mouth was everything he’d hope home would feel like. Her lips were familiar, warm, and inviting. How strange he found comfort in her embrace of all people.  The rhythm of her mouth worked against his, her tongue slipping inside, taunting him, and encouraging the budding sensation of desire that had ignited within him. He let his other hand roam down around her waist, drawing her flush against his body. He dipped lower still to grab a fistful of her dress and push it up, sliding his hand over the curve of her ass in order to hook her leg up over his hip in one fluid movement. She took no time drawing up her other leg to entwine herself around him.

This was the second time now that Fena’dea had been pinned against the halls of her own saloon during business hours, by the ranger. She laughed a breathless laugh against his lips, and he pulled back to appraise her.

“You have penchant for taking your lovers against walls.” She teased, nipping at his neck, “I told you I knew what you liked.”

As if to prove her wrong, Abelas suddenly pulled her away from it. He took a few rushed steps towards the bar and laid her down on its glossy surface before climbing on top of her. Within a matter of seconds he had her dress and small clothes on heap on the floor, along with his vest and shirt.  

She tugged at his pants, managing to get his belt undone and buttons unfastened before he brushed her hand aside and pinning her arm back.  He withdrew another blade from his now loosened belt and cut through her corset, leaving it frayed and forgotten somewhere behind the bar.

Fena’dea’s gasped at flooding sensation of being relieved of the constrictive garment. Abelas couldn’t help but gaze longingly at the way her chest rose and contracted as she took a deep breath, watching her gracefully arch into his touch. Fena’dea smiled coyly as she writhed beneath his stare; causing the hunger in Abelas’ eyes to flare at the way the muscles in her abdomen rippled when she rolled her hips to grind against him.  Fena’dea reached out to run her own fingers over the smooth expanse of his chest, just as his hand wound its way towards the space between her thighs.

He nestled his face into her neck, leaving a mix of hot kisses and bites at the base of her throat.  A quiet groan escaped from her parted lips as Abelas’ fingers reached her slit, slick with her desire. He began caressing her, the circling motion against her clit sent waves of heat down her spine, spilling into her core. He noticed the shift in her body language and smirked beside himself. Fena’dea’s heart clenched as she felt his lips shift into smile against the sensitive skin of her neck.

He continued kissing down, only stopping when he hovered over the swell of her breast. His burning amber eyes met hers for a fraction of a second before he slowly pushed a finger inside her.  She involuntarily began grinding against his hand, and he matched the pace of her rhythm. It didn’t take long before he slipped another finger inside. She felt her body tense with pleasure as he captured her nipple in his mouth, his tongue lapping in tantalizing swirls around it as his fingers curled within her. It was becoming too much, he felt her rising, the tension building with his each passing stroke.

 Fena’dea wanted more. She needed more. How many times had she replayed the way his body moved in tandem with hers on her nights spent alone? How many times had she daydreamed about the way he murmured her name softly into her flesh?

“ _Creators_ Abelas, if you don’t take me now, then I will take you.” She ordered breathlessly.

She didn’t give him time to react to take her up on her command; she had already made up her mind. She bolted up the moment he withdrew his touch. Fumbling with the buttons on his trousers in her haste to rip them off, she dragged them down roughly but paying special attention to contents hanging off his belt before pushing his shoulders back to meet the wood surface they were claiming. She ran deft fingers down the length of him, savoring the way he felt in her grasp. She watched in smug contentment as his face betrayed the satisfaction of her touch. She poised herself over his lap; she had planned to sink slowly onto him, to revel in the sensation of him within her but clearly Abelas had other plans.

She cried out as he thrust up into her, sliding in with ease,catching her off guard. His lips danced around another smirk, but not quite letting it take over as Fena’dea rolled her head back and let out a groan of pleasure.  He felt her clench around him, eliciting another thrust of his hips. When she turned her gaze back upon him, Abelas saw the gleaming zeal in her eyes.

She took back control with each roll of her hips, each one steadily grinding rougher. He fell in time with her tempo, sinking himself deeper and deeper as she rocked against him. Allowing himself to shamelessly explore her body again, he traced idle designs around her breasts before kneading them beneath eager fingers, coaxing more loud moans from her. He could feel her tightening around him in waves with each contraction pulsing faster and stronger than the previous one; he could feel them barreling towards their climax as he closed his eyes. Her pace began to falter as she cried out his name, coming undone above him, around him. Her shuddering form broke him and he gave himself over to his release.

Fena’dea fell against him and listened to his erratic heartbeat, mirroring her own. He lifted her chin to bring her lips against his once more. This time, their kiss was soft and slow, generous and intimate.

The perfect distraction.

It was only after the roaring in his ears had faded out considerably that he heard the familiar clink of metal on metal and realized he had made a huge mistake.

He stilled against Fena’dea’s lips as his eyes flew wide open in disbelief. Time seemed to stop as he figured out what she had done. He surged up, attempting to pin Fena’dea where she was, but she evaded his grasp and already hopped off behind the bar. He made to follow but the metal around his wrist had jerked him back.

 _His_ handcuffs.

“What’s the meaning of this?” He yanked at the metal brace, trying to pull it free. He knew it was no use; the cuffs were enchanted to be unbreakable and unable to pick. Only a key specially crafted for this set would be able to free him. And Fena’dea was toying with his freedom between her fingers. 

“How can I trust you weren’t going to do the same thing to me?” She said defensively, shifting out his line of vision

To be completely honest, he had considered distracting her with some flirtatious conversation long enough to capture her, but that idea had dissolved the moment she pleaded his name.

But now he was reminded of his original purpose, the real reason he had even ventured here again in the first place.  He neglected his duty out of desire and was now bound shamefully to the consequences. His stomach churned as new thought crept into this mind; this was stronger than desire.

The rogue bandit reappeared a few moments later, fully dressed in her riding trousers and embroidered tunic. Gone was the charming saloon owner and in her place was Nightshade, still holding his key.

“Let’s make a deal.”

Abelas glared at her, more mad at himself rather than with her. “I don’t make deals with outlaws.”

“No, you do much more than that.” She chuckled lightly.

He remained silent.

“In my hand I have your way out,” She continued to roll the metal key between two fingers, sauntering to hover just a few inches away from where he was bound, “Grant me my pardon out of here and I’ll grant you yours.”

He scoffed.  “I am not at liberty to grant such pardons. I am bound my word and duty to the Goddess.”

“Your word that you won’t follow me out of here is all I’m asking for.”

He arched a brow at her, “And give you the chance to run away from your transgressions?”

“I own up to all my _transgressions,”_ She jutted her chin out defiantly using his term, “and claim little to none of the spoils. I would commit all those crimes all over again to prevent my people from starving in their beds, or dying in the streets.”

Her words struck a nerve. She wasn’t doing it for profit or self- gain? What kind of bandit steals the most precious goods and coin …and keeps nothing for herself?

“You don’t…why?”  He said shaking his head, had he misjudged her character?

“Because I’m bound to _my word_ and _my duty_ to the people, to protect them against the people who slight them, the people you work for.”

Again he found himself at a loss for words. A heated moment of silence fell between them before Fena’dea stepped closer.

“All I want is your word you won’t come after me tonight,” She said softly, a hint of mischief swirled in her eyes before adding, “although tomorrow night I might be free.”

“What are you scheming Nightshade?”

“That’s for me to know, and for you to attempt to find out….that is only if I let you loose.”

There was no way out of this unless he gave her what she wanted, and surprisingly he found himself wanting to give it. He was curious about her intentions, and made a vow to himself that he would figure her out.

“You have my word.”

Abelas watched as she brought the purple bandana at her neck up over nose; its decal was that of the lethal desert flower she had claimed as her alias. He took note that it complimented the shades of twilight in her eyes.

 “Until tomorrow, then.” She said with a coy wink and tossed him the key.

No sooner had the key left her hand did she gracefully spin backwards out of reach, slamming a smoke grenade down onto the floor. The billowing clouds gave her just enough cover to vanish off into the sunset.


End file.
